


In Retrograde

by thatrandomnpc



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, MadaTobi Remix, Mentioned Uzumaki Mito/Senju Touka, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatrandomnpc/pseuds/thatrandomnpc
Summary: “You have a history.”Tobirama has become immensely fond of Mito over the course of their quest. The high priestess of the Sage is fiercely intelligent, an expert with divine magics, and well composed in tense situations. (Including but not limited to, it seems, the prospect of the release of an evil goddess of illusion intent on devouring their plane of reality.)In practical terms, anyone capable of devolving the normally unflappable Touka into flushed stammering has earned Tobirama’s respect.This conversation, however, Tobirama would be fine with skipping.





	In Retrograde

**Author's Note:**

  * For [godaime_obito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godaime_obito/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Reluctant Questing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546375) by [godaime_obito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godaime_obito/pseuds/godaime_obito). 



> This is my entry for the MadaTobi Remix over on Tumblr, which has honestly been a blast! My remix assignment was the awesome godaime_obito. I had such a hard time picking which story to remix and ultimately ended up falling head over heels for the D&D style concept for Reluctant Questioning, so please go give some love to the original story! This one is set towards the end of the adventuring around set up in the original story to find a way to stop Kaguya. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“You have a history.”

Tobirama has become immensely fond of Mito over the course of their quest. The high priestess of the Sage of Six Paths is fiercely intelligent, an expert with divine magics, and well composed in tense situations. (Including but not limited to, it seems, the prospect of the release of an evil goddess of Illusion intent on devouring their plane of reality.)

In practical terms, anyone capable of devolving the normally unflappable Touka into flushed stammering has earned Tobirama’s respect.

This conversation, however, he would be fine with skipping.

“Yes,” Tobirama replies testily. From the library’s open window, he can easily hear the festivities coming alive as the sun sets. They aren’t likely to be disturbed for hours yet. “Though I know for certain the same couldn’t be said of you and Touka, and yet here we are.”

When he glances up from the ancient text beneath his fingers, Mito pins him with an arched brow and expectant look. Tobirama frowns in kind and petulantly returns to skimming the text in silence.

“History or no, Touka and I plan to enjoy the evening as soon as you and I finish with business here,” Mito replies shamelessly, as though they haven’t used the city’s celebration (and a bit of Izuna’s charm) to their advantage to break into a noblewoman’s personal library. The fate of the world, Tobirama justifies, is perhaps _slightly_ more important than taking the time to appease the nobility for access to texts they’ll need before they attempt to seal away a literal goddess in the following fortnight. “Given the high probability of meeting a grizzly fate the moment we set foot in the castle, I assumed you and Madara would set aside your history for the time being.”

Tobirama’s frown deepens. Mito has the courtesy to turn her sharp gaze back to her own text. “Was it that obvious?” he asks grimly. Lying to Mito, he’s learned, is almost as useless as lying to Touka.

A sigh from Mito is as good as a groan of frustration from anyone else. Given a distinctive increase in Touka’s glares and Izuna’s pointed limericks, Tobirama expects that the three of their companions have formed something of a unified front on the matter of his and Madara’s former relationship--namely that the 'former' part should be retroactively redacted. 

When Mito speaks again, her tone is far more serious than the teasing Tobirama expects. “You weren’t conscious to see him after _you_ grabbed the Sage’s staff from the cursed chamber,” she says grimly enough to pull his gaze back to her. Her lips are pulled tight with a frown. If he’s ever doubted that the easy friendship between them is mutual, those concerns are banished. Tobirama’s fingers absently brush against his robes, just above the relatively new scar resting on his side. “He nearly burned down the temple trying to get to you.”

The backlash of counteracting the spell on the staff would have killed anyone less skilled or quick thinking. In theory, being one of the most powerful Necromancers in the realm had something to do with his success. He's generally accustomed to occult magics. In that moment, however, he hadn’t especially considered his own advantages against the curse.

He’d only seen Madara’s intent to grab the damn thing and acted before the reckless bastard had the chance to do the same.

“Either way, I’ll say nothing more,” Mito promises, “But it seemed worth a thought at least.”

Worth the thought or not, Tobirama has found his mind straying to the subject more frequently over their quest than he might’ve liked. He’s worked out now that Madara’s penchant for unconsciously setting things ablaze is often tied to his emotional outbursts--that they’re so rare these days because they only happen with intense anger or fear now.

Regardless, he tries to focus himself away from that realization for now. Particularly when his thoughts are supposed to be otherwise occupied with sealing away a goddess wreaking havoc on the castle.

(Granted, the moment he returns his attention to its proper focus, a dreaded reality is laid out in the text under his fingers.)

 

 

 

Of all the unexpected chaos of the past year’s worth of questing, Tobirama legitimately expects some sort of chimera-related debacle as he and Mito leave the library. The fact that their departure is greeted with an anticlimax rather than a monster of legend or an overly talkative enemy makes him suspicious. Then again, if Tobirama were a more superstitious or religious person, he may have attributed their lack of issue to the sense of foreboding for the single solution to their upcoming goddess problem.

Madara is waiting for them. As soon as they’re adequately anonymous in the crowd, he drops his spells over the guards, who remain none the wiser to the break-in.

True to her word, Mito excuses herself. Apparently she and Touka have already agreed on a place to meet up. The high priestess sends Tobirama a pointed look as she leaves.

Given that Izuna is off entertaining the masses, Madara and Tobirama are on their own.

“We need to talk,” Madara announces.

Tobirama glances at the hand that wraps gently around his forearm. He supposes he should think little of the casual touches between them. After all, they’d shared countless intimate moments in the past. Enough that Tobirama remembers feeling the distinct loss of them after the end of their relationship. There’s nothing odd about them now, realistically. Only that each easy touch from Madara is both an ache soothed and another’s onset.

“Yes,” he agrees, “We do.”

He allows Madara to lead him through the gathering crowds, savoring the sound of life and laughter. In only days, they’ll enter the land now buried under the burden of Kaguya’s corruption. He’s certain their colleagues have done all they can to slow the spread, but he remembers the hints of that eerie, crushing silence as he and Madara had stood at the edge of the castle at the beginning of all this.

This time, they’ll be forced to travel through the corruption for days, with only Mito’s spells and the Sage’s staff for protection.

According to the scroll he’s only just read, they have days before Madara is forced to take center stage in sealing away Kaguya: a master of Illusion magic against a goddess of Illusion.

He frowns at the thought. It distracts him as they walk to the point that he hardly realizes that… whatever this is, clearly Madara has put forethoguht into it until they arrive well outside the bounds of the celebrating city to sit in a secluded space near the lake.

The fact that Madara’s course never veers means that he’s already picked this spot. That he’s given thought to the peaceful atmosphere of the lake at sundown, with the lights of the city gleaming off of the water’s surface. It’s… not something Tobirama is accustomed to, but then, when they had been together the first time, they typically spent their time either bickering or fucking with little in between the extremes.

As he’s learned over the last year, he is not the only one to have settled some.

Madara takes a seat at the lake’s shore. Tips his head to suggest Tobirama do the same. He does, though he takes a moment to slip off his shoes and roll up the loose fabric of robes and pants to shamelessly dip his feet in the water.

He feels Madara watching him and waits for the Uchiha to air his judgement.

When Madara speaks, it’s… softer than Tobirama expects. More fond than teasing. “Still overly fond of water, I see.”

Ah. They haven’t run into a body of water, barring an extended sail across the ocean, in the year they’ve been traveling. But then… Arching a brow, Tobirama meets Madara’s gaze and holds it, “Perhaps I gave you too much credit. I assumed the choice of the lake was intentional.”

Dark eyes roll petulantly, but Tobirama expects that he isn’t just imagining the faint flush. It’s too familiar, given it’s a muted version of the same one he’d seen any time Madara had been caught doing something marginally thoughtful.

Tobirama may otherwise have focused on the gesture--the fact that this was all clearly planned--but, in light of what weighs on his mind…

“It has to be you,” he bites out grimly, “No one else stands a chance of withstanding her spells.”

Madara blinks. Frowns. Turns his gaze across the lake after a breath. “I assumed as much,” he admits, though he hardly sounds perturbed by that fact.

Tobirama scowls.

(He refuses to wonder if _this_ is what Madara felt, that moment Tobirama’s fingers curled around the sacred staff, intentionally activating the curse on the damn thing. Neither of them have ever been especially good at accepting their own helplessness to fix something with their own hands, magic, and wit.)

Madara shakes his head dismissively. “I know her magic best,” he points out, eyes mischievously daring Tobirama to challenge him for the chance to be labeled a hypocrite. “I didn’t bring you here to strategize. Touka will demand enough of that on the journey back to the castle.”

Fair enough, but Tobirama is more than pleased to back his cousin on that front. Madara fell prey to the temptation of studying the forbidden arts of his school of magic once before (not that Tobirama is entirely innocent of that himself in his own way), and he almost fears that tie will give Kaguya what she needs to best him in the battle to come. The man is reckless, and Tobirama…

Well. Madara brought him to the lake rather than the festival. This is territory both terribly familiar and achingly new.

If he’s honest, it’s something he’s longed for in abstract for a while now--longed for more concretely since witnessing the subtle changes between them after years of separation.

Part of him wants to preempt Madara. Hold this conversation as collateral for his survival in the battle. That part of him is easily shut down, however, by the part that remembers Itama and Kawarama dearly and with unending grief and regret. If forced to part permanently, he would rather do so without so much regret in the unspoken.

Instead, a wistful smile pulls at the corners of his lips, “I seem to recall that I still owe you a vacation.”

Catching Madara off guard remains just as amusing as it always has been. Only now, it seems Madara recovers more quickly. “What?” comes the dry reply, “Does this not fit your definition of an ideal get away?”

Tobirama represses the urge to grimace. It might have, eight years ago: regardless of the life-or-death element, they’d encountered creatures of legend, magics of myth, and gathered new spells that he never would have seen otherwise. Tobirama’s work-life balance had always been… _strained,_ more so then than now.

Surprisingly, Madara frowns as though he hadn’t meant the comment as a barb. “Neither of us appreciate beating around the bush,” he points out, “So I’ll be blunt: do you want me back or not?”

Tobirama snorts, entirely too amused. “I would give you credit for the lake, but you’re still as abrasive as ever,” he points out, tone just far enough on the side of teasing that the Uchiha seems to understand, if the dry, displeased look is any indication.

Tobirama brushes it off in favor of returning his attention to the lake. It’s fully dark now, but the forests tend to remain pleasantly warm and humid for most of the year. “One or both of us could die in the upcoming battle,” he points out, rather than ask _are you certain this is what you want?_

He’d cared deeply for Madara the first time, even when they’re goals and temperaments had put so much strain on their relationship. This time, he expects that he’s come to fully love the Uchiha, frustrating though it is at times.

Madara huffs dismissively but makes a point of catching Tobirama’s gaze again. “I’m well aware,” he replies, adding the challenging, “You’re welcome to say no, Senju.”

“How magnanimous,” Tobirama drawls dryly. In honesty though, he knows the signs of Madara’s discomfort well enough to read them in the tension at his eyes and the way his posture is pointedly, seemingly relaxed. The Senju cannot entirely bring himself to hold his answer much longer, “Loathe as I am to deprive you of a rare opportunity to practice your good will, I’d rather not waste another eight years.”

Madara chuckles, low and more amused than offended. “I’m abrasive? And yet you don’t have the advantage of having chosen the scenery.” There’s relief in the quirk of his understated smile though.

Tobirama memorizes the curve of it, wants to burn the image and the warmth it inspires in his mind.

Glancing at the lake, now flickering the reflection of the cities’ lanterns and magelight like fireflies, Tobirama tips his head consideringly, “Touka told you to bring me here, didn’t she?”

Ah. There’s the sputter. Over the past year, Tobirama has adjusted to the distinct lack of sparks that accompany it. “Hardly,’” Madara snaps. Tobirama raises a brow in a silent challenge. The Uchiha huffs and crosses his arms, sullen. _“I’m_ the one who can actually read a romantic mood, Senju.”

For once allowing himself the moment of quiet amusement, Tobirama shifts closer, feet dragging through the cool water. Madara’s frown eases in favor of curiosity. Tobirama’s movements are slow and telegraphed enough that Madara could easily pull away, but he doesn’t. He sits still, a hint of a pleased smirk tugging at his handsome features as Tobirama brushes back a stray strand of that wild, black hair. “Then I suppose I’ll have to practice,” he offers.

Madara, still ever impatient, rolls his eyes and gently clasps the back of Tobirama’s neck to pull him down into a surprisingly gentle kiss. There are still hints of familiarity in it, even after all these years, but also something new. Something that was always smothered out and buried under the frenzy of their younger years.

When they part, the Uchiha leans against him, a warm line by his side. Tobirama smiles softly, bracing an arm behind Madara’s back.

“When we’ve dealt with our goddess issue,” Madara decides, “I expect the best damn vacation you can think of. A week, at least, without some disgusting Eldritch horror crawling out of a swamp.”

“It was only the _one time,_ Uchiha,” Tobirama points out, “I hardly could’ve predicted it would happen.”

Madara huffs, but his posture is far more relaxed now, “Says the man who wanted _samples_.”

On a whim--or perhaps because he’s wanted to for months now--Tobirama gently brushes his fingers through Madara’s hair, careful of the wind-swept knots from travel. After a moment of surprise, Madara goes still and relaxed with a quiet hum of pleasure.

“I seem to recall thanking you for your patience,” Tobirama adds, _“thoroughly.”_

Madara hums thoughtfully, “I suppose you did.”

They fall silent for a time, simply enjoying the peace and quiet before the rush to the upcoming battle. Tobirama has confidence in their abilities, but it still weighs on him.

He’s caught more than a little off guard by the first crack of fireworks overhead. The colors are vivid, doubled as they are in the reflection of the lake. A glance at Madara’s smug smirk is all it takes to ensure that this was, in fact, planned as well.

Well, he decides, this is new, and his interest is thoroughly caught.

Now to deal with the problematic goddess standing in the way of that.


End file.
